


Ink and Metal

by Mixxy



Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Sex, Elliott has a thing for bad boys, Elliott has no problem with this, Kurt comes across as kind of dom, M/M, Piercings, Piercings kink, Shameless Smut, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 14:29:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1229887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mixxy/pseuds/Mixxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliott may have a <i>little</i> thing for tattoos. And piercings.</p><p>And Kurt.</p><p>...Okay, maybe a huge thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink and Metal

“Hey Starchild, move over.”

Elliott shifts on the couch, only to end up squished between Rachel and Santana as Dani tries to squeeze in next to her girlfriend. Normally he’d be thrilled to be pressed between so many gorgeous women, except a) Santana has no interest in men, b) She’d probably tear his face off if he tried anything with Dani, and c) he has no interest getting involved in the whirlwind that is Rachel Berry. “So what’re we working on today?”

“Dunno, but I can’t stay long,” Santana says, opening a compact and baring her teeth in the mirror. “It’s date night.”

“Date night?” he asks, and Dani nods proudly, smiling in the way only someone who knows they’re getting laid tonight smiles. “But what about practice?”

“I’ve got to be off soon as well,” Rachel says, crossing her legs primly. “My director wants to go over some of the nuances in the show. After the wig incident a few weeks ago, I think he’s really started valuing my input more.”

“Okay, that’s nice, but if we weren’t going to practice, then why did Kurt call us together?”

Santana shrugs. “I think he just wanted to remind us that even if we haven’t actually played together in over a month, we’re still a band.” And that’s true, they’ve all been really busy- Rachel with rehearsals, Santana and Dani with work (and each other), and Kurt- Kurt’s been doing everything. Hunting for a better job. Voice and dance training every minute of his free time. Skypeing the best friend back home, and _no_ , Elliott wasn’t happy when they called off the engagement, not at _all_.

He’s a terrible liar, even to himself.

“I’ve got to leave,” Rachel says abruptly, standing up and fixing her skirt. “Professionals are never late. Even the immortal Barbara-”

“Hey, shorty, if I have to hear you obsessive-girl-love over Streisand one more time, I’m gonna be sick. And that’s coming from an actual lesbian.”

Rachel huffs and stalks out, heels clacking on the hard floor. Kurt comes in the room just in time to see her shutting the door. “Did Rachel just leave? But we didn’t even talk as a band yet!”

“Sorry, pincushion, but we better be going too. Don’t wanna miss half-price drinks at Lez-Be-Honest.” Dani trailing behind, Santana kisses Kurt on the cheek before grabbing her jacket and leaving.

Kurt sputters angrily, making aborted hand gestures and eventually settling on glaring at the closed door. He walks over to the couch and throws himself down next to Elliott. “I had a pep talk plan and _everything_. I finally find a time where everyone can come over and they just leave? Ugh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a really good pep talk, too.”

“I bet it was.”

He smiles a little bit at that, the corner of his mouth quirking upward slightly. “It would have had everyone in tears.”

“Oh, I believe it. Hey, I’m still here. Am I so unimportant?”

Kurt whacks him on the arm, good-naturedly. “Somehow I don’t think you want to hear a pep talk where half of it is centered around woman power. But I’ll tell you what, as a bonus for not abandoning me, I’ve got a bottle of wine and we can drink it and the girls can’t have any. Sound good?”

He really shouldn’t. He knows that there’s this- attraction, simmering right under the surface. For him, at least. Since the minute he walked in to that audition and Kurt fixed him with a steady stare, those striking blue-grey eyes- well, Elliott was lost. And then he had a fiancé, and then he didn’t, but they’re bandmates and it really wouldn’t be _professional_ to make a move.

If he’s honest with himself, that isn’t the main reason. The main reason is that- well, Kurt is…Kurt. He’s talented, driven, passionate, charming, witty, and _way_ out of Elliott’s league, as in he’s so hot he can probably get any guy in New York that he wants.

So he really shouldn’t agree to drink with him, here, alone. “Yeah, I’m in.” Fuck.

Kurt gets two glasses and they talk about the city, the band, the music scene. They talk about their lives, and Elliott laughs himself breathless at Kurt’s descriptions of his creepy choir teacher back in high school. He mentions his brother once or twice, and Elliott drapes an arm around his shoulders without thinking. It’s okay, right? Friends comfort each other, don’t they?

Kurt smiles and nuzzles at Elliott’s shoulder, and Elliott’s not sure how much of this is the wine or his own wishful thinking, because his body heats up at just that much small contact. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t spent a good number of lonely nights with his right hand thinking about Kurt’s voice broken in bliss, or Kurt’s lithe form underneath him.

“Hey,” he says, trying to break his own thoughts, because Kurt is pretty close- when did he get that close?- and would probably notice if he was…uh, affected. “Why did Santana call you pincushion earlier?”

“Oh,” Kurt says, and he blushes and grins at the same time. “I, uh…got a little reckless last month.”

“Reckless?” Elliott arches an eyebrow, taking another sip.

“Yeah. Decided to…rebel a little bit. Try being the bad boy for once, you know?”

Elliott almost chokes on his wine. Bad boys, all covered in leather and rough edges, have always been a _huge_ turn-on for him. He wonders if Kurt’s somehow sensed this. Sometimes when they’re doing a number and Kurt _growls_ into the microphone, dropping his voice low and snarling the line, it makes Elliott want to drop to his knees right there and beg. Or when Kurt wears his leather pants that look all but painted on, and Elliott has to dig his nails into his palms to keep from touching. “So, uh,” he says, trying to sound totally nonchalant, “what did you do?”

Kurt leans forward, eyes gleaming. “Want to see?”

Elliot thinks he might be dreaming, because half of his fantasies start out like this. “Sure. Yeah, that’s…that’s good.”

Without further ado, Kurt starts unbuttoning his shirt and Elliott’s mouth goes dry because _is this the beginning to a porno or what_? Then Kurt peels off the shirt- exposing surprisingly toned arms, and _oh god_ really, did he need to have abs? He turns around, and Elliott is distracted by the way his back muscles are moving before he notices-

“You have a tattoo.” Tattoos have always been one of his biggest kinks. As it turns out, _Kurt_ with tattoos is even more of one. He’s half-hard in his jeans already, and he can feel his face heating up. “”It’s…got Bette Midler’?”

Kurt looks over his shoulder at him, and the sly smile he’s got makes Elliott want to pin him down and see how it tastes against his mouth. “It got messed up the first time, so I sort of fixed it. It’s weird, I know, but I like it. Do you?”

That’s so hardcore. That he just…messed up a tattoo, and doesn’t even seem to care about it. It’s such a stark contrast, black ink against Kurt’s pale skin, so lovely and elegant on his shoulder. Before he knows what he’s doing, he leans down, one hand on the other shoulder, and presses his lips to the skin. He imagines he can feel the lines of the ink.

Kurt goes still, and abruptly Elliott realizes what a bad idea this was. Oh, god. He’s going to get kicked out of the band, Kurt’s never going to speak to him again-

“Elliott,” and Elliott can feel the rumble of Kurt’s voice against his lips. That’s all Kurt says. His name. It’s not…bad. He doesn’t say it like he’s mad, or like he wants him to leave. One of his hands comes up and touches the one on his shoulder, laying on top of it and squeezing lightly.

Oh. _Oh_. Tentatively, still feeling like this isn’t quite real, Elliott flicks out his tongue, tracing the tip along the lines of the tattoo. Kurt gives a quiet groan, and the sound sends shivers down Elliott’s spine. His voice, normally so lovely already, sounds _magnificent_ in pleasure. He wants to worry the skin, give Kurt a hickey right there, but he doesn’t want to mar the tattoo so he settles for just a little above, on the junction between Kurt’s neck and his shoulder. He mouths at the skin, listening to Kurt’s little breathy sighs and moans, and _god_ , he’s hard already, he hasn’t felt like this since he was a teenager in high school.

Suddenly Kurt turns around and for a second Elliott thinks he’s just had a lapse of judgment and now he’s going to kick him out the apartment. But then Kurt’s kissing him, hard and bruising, and he can’t do much except moan helplessly and cling to his shoulders. Elliott nips at Kurt’s lower lip a few times, drawing a gasp out of the singer. Kurt’s tongue slides against his, expertly tracing patterns on the sensitive roof of his mouth, and- wait-

Elliott pulls away, feeling a quick flash of pride at Kurt’s flushed cheeks and lust-blown pupils. “I- felt something, on your tongue, something hard-”

“Oh, this?” Kurt asks, and he sticks out his tongue, revealing the ball of metal on the middle of it.

A tongue piercing. Kurt has a tongue piercing. Elliott gapes at him for so long Kurt looks unnerved and touches his arm to see if he’s alright. “Oh my god,” he finally manages, and it comes out thick with arousal. “Fuck me. Please.”

Kurt’s eyebrows shoot up and his lips part in surprise. “Pardon?”

“I want- I want to feel your piercing all over my body, want to you- want you just _fuck_ me, please, come on-”

Kurt is smiling now, dark and mischievous and it’s way hotter than it probably should be. “You really like the piercing, huh?” Elliott nods desperately and Kurt slowly slides his tongue out of his mouth, curling it and licking his lips.

“Fuck, Kurt, please-” He pulls Kurt in again, frantically kissing him, and makes an obscene noise when the piercing clicks against his teeth. Kurt tugs at Elliott’s shirt and he has to break the kiss to pull it off over his head. He ducks his head down and licks a long line up Elliott’s neck, and Elliot moans unashamedly at the feel of the hard metal and soft tongue. Then he’s teasing one of Elliott’s nipples, rolling the ball of the piercing over and over the hardened nub, and Elliott’s cock gives a painful throb. “Kurt, come on-”

Kurt continues down, licking and _biting_ over his chest and stomach, each small touch and twinge making Elliott pant. One of his hands cups Elliott where he’s aching, and he throws his head back at the sensation. “Ready for me, aren’t you?”

He makes a sound halfway between a whine and a growl and flips them, pinning Kurt between his body and the couch. As he grinds his hips down, he kisses Kurt so hard there might be bruises later. Every little noise the singer makes is delicious, and he tries to capture all of them. “Elliott,” Kurt breathes when they come up for air, “Starchild. Are we going to do this or?”

“You got lube? Condoms?” Elliott says, biting Kurt’s earlobe lightly.

Kurt makes a strangled noise. “Side drawer.”

Elliott scrambles up and away, head spinning with thoughts of how wonderful Kurt is going to feel around him, what it’s going to be like to thrust in, just like he’s been dreaming of.

But he turns around and Kurt is lying there languidly, bare, slowly stroking himself, eyes dark and smile promising, and all of Elliott’s plans go out the window.

He almost trips in his hurry to get his pants off, but then he’s blessedly naked and straddling Kurt, leaning in to kiss him again. Kurt slowly runs his piercing along Elliott’s top lip and he’s taken by full-body shivers, hopelessly aroused. He presses the lube into Kurt’s hand with a sense of urgency, like he’s going to burn up if they don’t do something about this soon.

Kurt tangles his hand in Elliott’s hair and pulls, just hard enough to make his nerve endings tingle with the light pain. He’s nipping along Elliott’s exposed neck and it’s all so good that he almost doesn’t notice when the first finger brushes against his entrance.

It’s slow- so slow, so good, Elliott can hardly stand it. He leans his forehead against Kurt’s, nails digging into his shoulders. “More.” A second finger, and it’s still not enough. “Kurt, more.”

The fingers inside him are scissoring maddeningly. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me, just do it.” Then there’s a third finger, and it’s so nice that Elliott can’t stop rambling. “Ah, fuck, yes, that’s right, that’s- _fuck!_ ” Kurt curls his fingers just so and barely brushes against Elliott’s prostate, a lick of fire going up his spine. “Just-“ He pushes Kurt’s hand away, rolls on a condom, and Kurt watches wide-eyed as he sinks down on his cock.

A breath of air escapes through his teeth- Kurt’s bigger than one might expect, and he did rush through preparation- but the burn is nice, in a way, the sweet blend of pleasure and pain and stretch, and the way Kurt’s staring at him is more than worth it. “Elliott,” he hisses, grapping his hips, “ _God_ , you’re tight.”

He stays there for a minute, just feeling _full_. “Ah- wanted to do this for so long-“

“How long?” Kurt asks, moving a bit beneath him.

It makes the cock inside him shift, pressing against wonderful things, and he bites his lip for a second before he can answer. “Since we- fuck- met.” He slowly lifts himself up before dropping back down, and Kurt’s back arches in a beautiful way. “Every time you’re up there singing- oh god- whenever you hit those low notes-”

He’s fucking himself down in earnest now, moving faster, dropping harder, and the noises Kurt makes are _perfect_. He thrusts his hips up just a little and Elliott sees stars. “Do that again, _fuck_.”

Kurt starts making little aborted thrusts that are hitting that spot every time, and Elliott is coming apart above him, erratically bouncing up and down, needing it _deeper_ , needing _more._

“Elliott, fuck, I’m gonna- Elliott-” Kurt tugs him down, kisses him desperately. When he comes, he bites down on his lip so hard Elliott can taste blood. It’s a little erotic, and he’s so close.

Kurt flips them and pulls out. Elliott feels so empty and incredibly betrayed, propping himself up on his elbows. “That’s not fair, I- _Ohsweetgod_.” Kurt’s mouth envelops his length, hot and sucking and oh, oh, _yes._ He leans away and licks a long stripe up his cock, piercing trailing along the hot skin, and that does it for Elliott, he’s coming harder than he has in years.

When Kurt crawls back up and kisses him, he can taste himself on his lips. “So, you’ve got a thing for piercings, huh?”

Elliott chuckles, low and worn-out. “You have no idea.”

Kurt gets up and there’s the sound of the drawer opening. “Oh my god.”

Lazily, he turns his head to see Kurt holding a notebook. “What?”

“The girls…I think they’re…are they _betting_ on when we’d get together?”

Elliott takes the notebook and dissolves into laughter. “Apparently so. And Rachel won.”

“Not so above it all, is she?” He pulls out his phone and begins texting.

“What’re you doing?”

“Letting Rachel know she won 50 bucks.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not an expert on piercings, but I'm gonna advise that you don't actually suck dick until you're 100% sure it's healed.
> 
> It's been so long since I wrote porn that wasn't Night Vale oh my god this felt weird. 
> 
> If you'd like to chat or scream about Starkurt with me, I have a blog [here](http://mixxtapej.tumblr.com) and you can send me a message if you'd like.
> 
> I have a WTNV/writing blog [here](http://floating-cats.tumblr.com) but be warned, it's primarily a Welcome to Night Vale blog.


End file.
